


Don't Tell Your Dad

by neur0phyte



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - High School, Dave is struggling, Fluff and Angst, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neur0phyte/pseuds/neur0phyte
Summary: Dave Strider is anything but normal, but neither is the new(ish) boy in school, Karkat Vantas. A dropped pen, a party, and a few dozen confessions turn two lives around and the two young men find they're far more similar than they thought. Set in 2012.------------------------------------GENERAL TWs// Swearing, internalised homophobia, trauma, school settingEach chapter will be marked as Safe or Risky and marked with trigger warnings. Risky chapters will contain minimal plot points, but will be necessary for character development, and so can be skipped if you need. More relevant tags will be added along with content.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	1. The "New" Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--- SAFE CHAPTER ---
> 
> TW // Panic attack, swearing, alcohol mention
> 
> In which we meet the protagonists, and Dave stares at a boy in class.
> 
> (See the end of the work for more notes.)

Karkat sat across the room, picking at window grout and looking bored. Only the corner of his right eye was visible as he stared intensely out into the school grounds. Tresses of black hair rested over his face and neck, curling toward the ceiling gently. His hair looked rough, but not quite wiry, and held its shape - a work of art, in its feigned permanence. Despite the tepid air of a late, late Texas October, the young man sported a sweater, practically indistinguishable from the one he wore yesterday, or the day before, or any day before that. It was a wonder if he owned any shirts other than sweaters. Combined with his loose grey jeans and black sneakers, all but his russet face and hands were covered up; a secret as closely kept as anything about the boy. His eyes grew half-lidded, before flickering back to wide, betraying sleepiness and seemingly bringing him back into the present, and his face turned to the teacher at the front of the class. Oh shit, class.

Eyes snapping back to the whiteboard, Dave banished what thoughts he could manage and tried to pay attention. This, however, was not his strong suit, nor that of any other person in his senior math class. Twenty-seven uninterested students, twenty-seven uninteresting minutes until the bell. Counting minutes was the only number-related activity Dave could bear. Since functions were incapable of capturing any attention, his eyes drifted back to the boy in the corner. More hesitantly this time, with the social implications of staring at another man in mind. Not that I was doing anything more than people watching, Dave thought. Like detective work, he would justify to Terezi and Rose later. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Karkat scribble in his notebook, rounded hands gripping the pen tight like it might escape his grasp. His next two classes were without Karkat, and then it was time to go home. They would have three classes together the next day though - math again, american literature, and biology. Not that Dave was keeping track. He knew the names of most people in each class, so it wasn’t unusual to remember. Besides, Karkat was “the new kid”, which meant that he had arrived in junior year and still didn't talk to many people, as is the way of high school. For about a week he’d been the talk of the town, but after that the masses moved on to bigger and better fish. As he watched, Dave found himself becoming complacent and comfortable. He rested his head in his hand, still side-eyeing focus. A year and a few months down the line and the guy was still a mystery, keeping everything to himself and avoiding all small-talk as much as he could. In his defence, he was one of the only darker-skinned people in the school, so it would make sense for him to be a little wary. This was a struggle that Dave knew well; albinism made him a target for bullying when he was younger, and, more recently, excessive questioning.

“Now, class,” Mrs McNeal tapped the whiteboard. Startled by the sudden change in tone, Dave jerked his elbow as he sat up straighter, knocking his pen to the floor. It rolled, and rolled, and rolled across the wood, under desks, eventually stopping… next to Karkat. Now, Dave was used to facing problems, but this was a double whammy. A well known troublemaker, he would probably be noticed quickly by the teacher and accused of some misdemeanor or other. Possibly worse, he would probably draw attention from Karkat, which for some reason struck the fear of god into his heart worse than any middle school pastor ever could. Maybe he could wait until class was over? He had no other pen. Maybe he could ask someone else? Even worse scolding from Mrs McNeal. Panic began to set in and Dave realised he was left with little choice. Head bowed and back arched to keep as low as possible, he skulked around his classmates, quickly as he could. His face turned red as he realised how many people were looking, but the teacher was still facing away. He could just make it. He turned his head to look back at the pen and found himself looking at it tightly clasped in a fist, end toward him. Dave looked up, and Karkat glared down at him, unimpressed. Blushing harder, Dave tentatively took the end of-

“David.”

Shit.

“What are you doing over there? It’s your senior year, you should have grown out of these stupid attention-seeking antics by now,” Mrs McNeal’s face was stern, he knew without looking. She wasn’t shouting, but he knew one wrong move would trigger the righteous fury of all heaven above. Somebody giggled. Somebody muttered. Fifty-four eyes were on him.

“I-”

“He dropped his pen, miss,” the hoarse voice came from his left, and when Dave looked back, Karkat was staring intently at the teacher. He was daring her to argue, and for someone who seemed so shy, he was certainly a force to be reckoned with at that moment. Mrs McNeal looked surprised, then conflicted, then resigned.

“Fine, just get back to your seat, and don’t even think about leaving your seat again. I won’t put up with the same bull as last year.”

“Yes, ma’am, sorry,” Dave muttered, slipping the pen from his saviour’s grasp. He took one last glance as Karkat turned back to him, their eyes meeting again for just a moment. Dave’s heart stopped, and he turned to trot swiftly back to his seat. Sitting down in the hard plastic chair, he shut up and tried to seem interested. No more trouble, just pay attention. Stop trying to stare at him. Just focus, it’s not that difficult. Put the pen down. She’s talking, and you can’t afford to mess up again. The pen squeaked on the whiteboard. Every word blurred into a slurry of information glancing off Dave’s ears. The clock was ticking; ten minutes left. He could make that, it’s not that long. He couldn’t make that. This was impossible. Oh god, the murmuring silence was fucking unbearable.

He glanced to the left. His eyes met Karkat’s. Was he watching him? No, it was all in his head. Dave looked at the door. Through the tiny slit windows, he could see the lockers across the hall. Ten more minutes, he thought. Come on, don’t be a bitch about it, nothing even happened. He picked at the scabs on his arm absent-mindedly, counting seconds in his head. Every second was a little easier, and breath began to flow more normally again. The tense fear remained.

Ten minutes later, the bell rang. Students flew from desks, drowning every word Mrs McNeal tried to say in the rustling of bags and the scraping of chairs. In the unbearable minutes between the absolute catastrophe and his saving grace, Dave had made a plan. He slung his satchel over his shoulder, bunching his red baseball tee at the shoulder. It slapped against his thigh as he strutted, as confidently as he could, over to Karkat’s desk. Heart slamming his ribcage again, he puffed out his chest, more for his own sake than his target’s.

“Hey, uh…” Karkat’s eyes snapped toward him, annoyance flaring in his grey irises. “Thanks for that. Earlier, I mean.” The boy was shorter than him by about half a foot, and a good deal chubbier than Dave, whose skinny frame detracted greatly from the intimidation in his height. Karkat threw his backpack on and started walking. Dave pursued quickly.

“It’s fine, no big deal,” Karkat said. He didn’t seem angry so much as anxiously bothered, though the growling in his nasally voice made it hard to tell. He walked quickly for such a short man, and Dave trotted to catch up.

“No really, McNeal would’ve never let me off if it weren’t for you. I’m pretty slick and charming and all but not enough to outwit her. I mean, she’s a fuckin’ scorpion and I’m an unsuspecting beetle just chillin’, being all shiny on a rock in the Sahara or some shit. Just crawling along, lookin’ for some shit to roll into a ball and push around when all of a sudden, bam, I’m paralyzed with my legs in the air wigglin’...”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Karkat stopped dead in the middle of the hallway and glared up at Dave, who smiled weakly.

“It’s, uh, a pretty big problem of mine,” Dave chuckled. Karkat sighed and kept walking. Dave hopped to catch up again. “Where’s your next class?”

“Literally why do you care? Stop following me.”

“C’mon man, just let me walk you there, and then I’ll leave you the fuck alone.” Karkat rolled his eyes. “Maybe.”

“Jesus Christ, fine. I’m room 26. What do you even want?”

“I…” Dave realised he didn’t think that far ahead. What did he want? “You seemed lonely?”

“Well, I’m not, so don’t pity me and go find someone else to waste your time on.” He sounded pretty mad about that one.

“Not like that. I mean, like, I never see you hanging out with anyone. So I dunno, I thought you might want a friend.”

“Christ, you really are desperate if you’re coming to me for your attention kicks. I’m not that interesting, you know.”

“I’d bet you’re pretty interesting.”

“Whatever gave you that idea, genius?” Karkat stopped outside his classroom. Dave needed to think of something quick. Why, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure why he was bothering with harassing his evidently pissed-off classmate but he just couldn’t bear the conversation to end the way it was about to. Maybe it was his innate inability to ever, as Karkat gently put it, shut the fuck up.

“Wait…” Karkat turned to face Dave, exasperation painting his face with a deep frown and tense jaw. “There’s a Halloween party tomorrow. At Feferi’s place. She’s got a pretty big house and a bunch of people are going. It’s dress-up and there’ll be alcohol and music and… shit. Do you want to come?”

“What makes you think I like parties?” He seemed suspicious.

“I don’t think you do. But I think you’ve never been to one and you’re curious.” Karkat glanced aside, face softening and mouth pushing to the side, making his cheek bunch up. He frowned again, and looked back up at Dave.

“Fine. Maybe. We’ve got class together tomorrow so… I’ll let you know then.” Dave grinned. “Now fuck off, asshole. Get to class.” Karkat swiveled on his heels and marched into class, trying to walk boldly as if he won some argument.

Dave ran the opposite direction to his class. He was about to be late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like this fic, please consider dropping a kudos and comment!! Critique is always welcome, and I'm looking for a beta reader so... applications open! Chapter 2 will be out soon, but will be a risky, trauma-centric chapter, so if that's not your vibe, please wait for Chapter 3. Check my twitter for updates @13_wires


	2. Golden Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \--- RISKY CHAPTER ---
> 
> TW // Abuse mentions, puppets, Bro Strider, CP mention, physical assault mention, controlled eating mention
> 
> In which Dave gets home, lays in bed, and thinks about his day. TL;DR for people who can't read Risky Chapters at the end!
> 
> \- BETA-READ/EDITED BY dead_on_the_inside, GO CHECK OUT THEIR AWESOME WORK -

The key clicked in the lock, sending a shock of fear through Dave’s body. His grip tightened on his pocket knife as the door swung open into the dark front hallway. Twenty-seven storeys up and he was dubiously alone. He clicked the lightswitch and the ceiling lamps flickered on, bathing the lavish, disarrayed living room in a jaundiced yellow glow. 

At first glance, the room was empty of all life, but Dave knew better. His eyes ricocheted off every inch of his surroundings, and didn’t dare stop as he quietly shut the door behind him. His heart beat louder and louder with each soundless second. Silence was a weapon, and one he had not yet mastered, nor defeated. Tiny glassy eyes watched him from every nook and cranny; cameras stared from the ceiling to monitor every move. Seventeen years never lessened the daunting nature of being watched by an unfathomable number of strangers who get off on seeing you get assaulted by puppets. 

Millionaire that his Bro was, it would be expected that such an extravagant apartment would be neat and sterile. While that would be an accurate reflection of the man’s demeanor, the violent discord of the cluttered space was possibly more so. Weapons were scattered across the kitchen and living room, a product of laziness or convenience. Among them were puppets of all kinds, though primarily Smuppets™, a hypersexual plush manufactured, sold, and marketed by Bro through which he made his millions. The cameras watched them always, particularly Dave's interactions with them, which was then live-streamed onto a website as a form of pornography. The site was left open on Bro's PC to be monitored, creating an infinity mirror of puppets beside a forum full of Smuppet fans. Out of the corner of his eye, Dave could see the watchers going wild since he walked in.

A floorboard creaked. Dave reached to his left and snatched his sword from the mixing console where he had left it that morning. The leather handle held tight in his sweaty palm, he braced himself for incoming attacks. Knees bent, arms close, stance wide for balance. Bro’s stealth was so formidable that any sound could be taken as a threat. Dave was experienced, and yet still no match. An attack never came. Ten stifling moments passed and no noise was heard. Keeping alert, Dave loosened his stance and stood upright again. Despite the apparent desolation of the disordered living area, he knew he was never truly alone, or safe. The TV screen to his left flickered; the new Dark Souls content pack was running, so Bro was definitely home, and would insist on Dave playing it later. It was surprising Bro still made him play games like that, considering he stopped crying over it years ago. The screen flickered again.

Stepping over the protruding asscheeks of the Smuppets littering the floorboards, Dave kept the sword tight in his grasp. He weaved around the mess, every footfall deliberate - like a paranoid dance, set to the humming of air conditioners and electrics, his red sneakers bending and stretching as his toes glanced off the wooden slats. Making his way carefully toward the hallway door, his fingers slipped around the doorknob. A gentle twist, slowly so the click is muffled. Dave pulled the door toward him, lifting it gently to prevent the joints from squeaking as it swung out, and slid through, shutting it slowly as he entered the dark hallway. Sunlight poured through the open window at the end of the hall, and the blinds shivered in the gentle breeze. Bro had probably escaped through it a few seconds before.

To the right was Dave’s room. He opened the door, dashed in, and shut it as quickly and quietly as he could manage. He was, for the most part, safe inside his own room. Bro wasn’t known to hide or attack outside of the shared living space, which Dave always wondered about the motives of. Surely giving him a safe space was allowing weakness to breed, but the intentions of his guardian were ever opaque and Dave wasn’t about to make a request to lose the only real security he had.

Dave dropped his satchel by his computer desk and inhaled. He twisted the lock, and exhaled. That wouldn’t stop his Bro, but it gave him a sense of peace. He moved over to his closet and dug around, pushing clothes and shoes to the side before retrieving a bag of Doritos and a bottle of apple juice. His second meal of the day, save the lunch he had bought from the cafeteria. It would tide him over for a while, and he knew it was safe; Dave had bought and snuck them in himself, but he still checked the seals. Crossing the room to his bed, he threw off his shoes and placed his aviator shades on the secondary desk. The light was low enough that it was no bother for his photosensitivity, and as long as nobody was around, nothing was truly revealed. He mounted his sword back onto the wall. Doritos propped against his lamp and juice sitting next to it, Dave laid down on the bed.

With the momentary calm, he thought about his day. Most days passed rhythmically, in steady beats of identical classes and boring lunches spent sat across the table from Gamzee and Sollux as they bickered over nothing. Any true entertainment Dave had was made by and for himself, and generally came in the form of talking too much and too loudly during class in an attempt to gather attention. Over summer, he’d grown up enough to feel that was juvenile and obnoxious, and made him seem like a fucking child. With hard work, he was doing far better at not drawing eyes, at the expense of his own sanity. Classes were boring and his interest in school was perpetually elusive, leaving him a fidgety, panicky mess. Today was a smear on his good streak of staying in the background, though the amount of blame he deserved in the situation was debatable.

What really captivated him was the outcome of the events. Nobody ever really… stood up for Dave, let alone a stranger. It seemed almost fated, almost comically scripted that the pen had rolled where it did. What kind of chance would have drawn him to his exact focus? Maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing but it felt like that was what he needed. Maybe this would be a change for the better. He might be loud and irritating and too bold for his own good, but Dave could make a good friend. He was sure of it. He would learn to be a good student, get into a good university so he could escape this hell, and he would make friends with Karkat.

Why Karkat? What was his obsession with Karkat? Dave was beginning to be bothered by it now. There was no real reason for him to be so fixated on the guy. Earlier that day was their first ever interaction, and as far as he knew, Karkat hated him. But the idea of meeting him again in the hallway, catching a glimpse of him in class, going to the Halloween party with him made Dave’s heart race. Usually the rapid beating of his heart, sweatiness, and breathlessness came from anxiety. There was no reason for him to be so nervous though. Karkat was just another man, who happened to be in a few of the same classes as him. Another man who was a little different from the rest, and didn’t seem great at talking to other people either. Another man. Dave had to see Rose and Terezi. They would know what was up. His cousin Rose was the smartest person he’d ever met, and Terezi knew him better than anyone. Back in middle school they were thick as thieves, and still were.

Whatever the reason, this dude wasn’t about to up and leave, and Dave wasn’t really sure how to stop thinking about him. Until he could meet up with his girls over the weekend, the plan was to make Karkat his friend. He had to. It was like a compulsion, a need to get to know the guy. He just seemed interesting. The sweaters, the way he sat alone, it was like he was hiding something. What it could be, Dave had no idea. It wasn’t like Karkat was ugly or whatever, so maybe he had some crazy scar or like, an alien body. If it was a scar they could totally bond over that, since Dave was absolutely lousy with them. Not so much with an alien body, but that would be pretty dope too. There was no possible way Karkat didn’t have some epic secret and Dave was going to find out exactly what it was.

As Dave pondered on his future friend, the bag of chips dwindled and the apple juice slowly drained. Fading light filled the room as the sun set, painting the scene a pretty butterscotch gold. An air of sleepiness hung in the serenity, and Dave studied the white ceiling for what felt like hours, eyelids fluttering as his muscles relaxed. And as with any time of peace, it is short-lived and gives way to war more deadly than before. He didn’t notice the lock on his door turn slowly.

The imposing silhouette of a man stood in Dave’s doorway. He seized his shades and fumbled to put them on. Bro stood towering, light from the hall casting a long shadow across the floor. His white polo was unbuttoned and his hat pulled low, not that it hid anything his pointed glasses didn’t. Lil Cal, a large faux-clown marionette that occupied more of Bro’s attention and affection than Dave ever could, sat firmly and commandingly on his shoulder. Seventeen years never took away the fear this incited in Dave. Wordlessly, never taking his eyes off the pair, he retrieved his sword from its mount and put on his shoes. He should’ve known better than to let down his guard, than to revel in the deathly silence.

It was time, as always, for his “training”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL;DR Dave was a troublemaker in school, but wants to do better. He thinks making friends with Karkat will help somehow, and vows to find out what Karkat's "secret" is. He also gets weirdly flustered around Karkat, and isn't sure why, so he decides to talk to his cousin Rose and best friend Terezi about it.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If you like this fic, please consider dropping a kudos and comment!! Critique is always welcome! Chapter 3 should be out next Saturday, and will be a safe chapter. Check my twitter for updates @13_wires, and stay tuned!


End file.
